Ice Heart
by Mrs.JohnReese
Summary: Caring is not an advantage. Words Lily Hudson knew by heart. Words that signified everything she had survived; and everything she had yet to witness. For when Sherlock Holmes enters her life, she'll find that as much as she tries to fight it; nothing will ever be the same. After all, all hearts are broken... Eventual Sherlock/OC Please R&R :)
1. Chapter 1

"_All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage…_"

…

Caring is not an advantage.

Of all the things she had been told over the years…things that echoed, like silent mantras, in her head…this was the one thing that should have resonated. That should have stayed with her. Past experiences should have served only as further proof that she had no business getting attached to anyone. That to do so would only harm her in the end. But still, she had pressed onward, blind to consequence…to the fallout that was inevitable. She had fallen for a man who was not known for showing any glimmer of affection whatsoever. She had foolishly dared to dream that maybe, just _maybe_, the two of them had something special. That he might at least grow somewhat fond of her throughout their time together. That she might be able to prove to him that forming connections to others was not as much of a weakness as he asserted. That there was something more for him—more for them both, than being alone. For a time, she had hoped that the two of them had been making progress. Slow, steady, but sure.

And then, just like everything else in her life that she had come to love so fiercely, he was gone.

Had she been left to her own devices after that day, with nothing to worry about save for herself; she might have been able to cope. Being used to her world coming apart at the seams on a somewhat regular basis, the young woman might have had some success in picking up the pieces and moving on; but for one small ripple in the otherwise typical stream of events. But this time was different. In stark contrast to the times before, where her own family had repeatedly torn her to shreds; _this_ incident was not deliberate or planned out. The man she had come to love had not known…had no _way _of knowing the exact level of her predicament when he left her. _When the world took him from her_. He did not know, because she had failed to muster the courage to tell him. Though what he would have done with the knowledge was beyond her ability to predict.

_Sherlock Holmes did not care for anyone…why would he care for a child?_

A man of stunning intellectual power, he would certainly see the result of their trysts as nothing more than another tedious facet of the life he lived. Though he had, over time, softened towards her inasmuch as he was able; the young woman was not so foolish to believe that indicated love…after all, he had never given reason to believe that he felt such a tedious emotion towards her, or anyone else he associated with. No, forcing logic upon herself, the young woman chose to classify his interactions with her as necessary for the task at hand. One could not always remain lonely…adrift in the world with nothing there to anchor them save their own thoughts and suppositions. She guessed that, in some strange way, she had become a sort of anchor for the great detective, even though she knew with utter surety that he would never once admit it. And that realization had impacted her more than she ever could have dreamed. It was the reason she allowed him to test out his curiosity towards the petty amusements of less intelligent beings despite her knowledge that there was not the slightest chance of anything coming of their involvement.

She just needed to be…_needed._

She never told anyone of what they were doing. Not John…not Mrs. Hudson…not one of them knew until after he had…after he was gone. All along she had been afraid that one of them would discover what had transpired and seek to put a stop to it out of some desire to protect her. To save her from herself. But, truth be told, she had never _wanted _to be saved. Not then, when the rush of pure elation each and every time the great _Sherlock Holmes _threw a look her way outweighed logic and set her pulse to racing. She was his experiment. There was no better word to describe her than that. It was cold, distant…fact. But in spite of that, she knew that she would have protected what they had with continued silence until her dying day…

Until, it seemed, there was no longer a secret to keep; and her body wouldn't have permitted her to even if she tried.

Forcing herself back to the present just in time to note the sound of approaching footsteps; the young woman turned slightly, the faint smile of acknowledgement that toyed with the corners of her lips never quite reaching her eyes as the man who had lost every bit as much as she came to stand by her side. The peaceful silence of the cemetery was broken in that moment by his heavy sigh…a sure indication that the grief he refused to show was still tormenting him. He was a soldier, through and through; born and bred to be the rock for others. For people like _her_. And it was everything she could do in that moment to bite her lower lip and hold the tears at bay as she felt his hand reaching for hers; his voice soft…broken, as he spoke.

"We should go, Lily…"

The young woman nodded then; using the need to tuck a strand of light brown hair behind her ear as ample excuse to dash away an errant tear before turning to face her partner in sorrow, her fingers clinging to his in a desperate search for comfort and warmth. Anything to take away the pain that tore through her chest. She knew that if she stood any chance at getting over this unspeakable shock, she had to move on. They _all_ did. But somehow, she also knew that such a thing was never really in the cards for her. As someone who gave everything of themselves to others on almost every occasion; it could never have gone any differently. She belonged to Sherlock Holmes now; body, mind, and soul. She was _his_ even though he was dead.

But still, she had to try to get better. To move on. For herself…for her friends…for the tiny life that now resided inside of her.

_She had to try…_

…..

_Sentiment_. A feeling, up until now, that he had always found to be nothing but superfluous. Why get attached to others, when time and time again they would prove themselves capable of nothing less than causing you pain. Either pain, or great annoyance with their stupidity. Their intellectual _inferiority_. In all of his years, Sherlock Holmes had never once formed an attachment to anyone. Believing it best to be alone; rather than tied down to any one thing or person, he had persisted in keeping a cold, calculating distance between himself and those around him. And for a while, that technique had worked. It had kept him safe when nothing else could; shielding him from the petty advances of human nature while permitting him optimal leeway for going about his work. But now, the great detective found himself caught in a seemingly impossible predicament. He was _not_ dead; contrary to the tombstone that suggested otherwise. He was very much alive, sequestered behind a tree not far from where the two people that meant the world to him were standing; grieving for a man who was not, in fact, gone from them. And in spite of everything that he tried to tell himself to the contrary…

It pained him to watch his friends carry on, alone in their grief. It stunned him that they even _cared_ one way or the other, for him.

But most of all, the man could do nothing other than admit that he now knew _exactly _what Lily had meant when she spoke of how actions can harm people more than words. When he left, there had been no parting farewells. At least, none that deserved to be considered as such. The only person who had directly witnessed his act to save those he cared for was John…but, Sherlock was forced to admit, _he_ was not the one he most wanted to tell.

It was _her_. Lily Hudson, the small, skittish wisp of a girl that shouldn't have meant a thing to him at all. Somehow, through coming to live with John in Mrs. Hudson's small flat on Baker Street; she had wormed her way underneath his cold exterior to the person he had worked so hard to bury as he grew up. To the person he had all but forgotten about in his efforts to be the best at his job.

_The only one in the world_.

All of that had failed him now. All of his attempts at distancing himself from the world around him had fallen away when he spent more and more time with his landlady's niece. In spite of previous thoughts indicating that he had suffered more than any other child growing up; he had found himself all but perplexed at the atrocities such a timid young woman had endured before the age of seventeen…and it was perhaps that shock and curiosity that rendered him susceptible to her; causing him to desire her company more and more until…

Shaking himself back into the present, the detective squared his shoulders; fighting the nagging urge to reveal himself to the two mourners not ten feet away. He knew he must not show them. They could not know the truth. To reveal such a thing would place them in grave danger; and distract him from the task at hand.

And that…that was a fate worse than the eternal loneliness he already faced. No, Sherlock Holmes would walk away from them; ignoring the faint sensation of pain that was wrenching its way through his chest as the soldier and the silent griever turned and walked towards their waiting taxi, and away from him. They deserved this. A better life. A life without the constant danger that an acquaintance with him provided. And though he did not know of the true consequences of his dalliance with either of them…

He knew that this was the right decision. They were safe. Moriarty's network could not touch them so long as it was supposed he was dead.

That was all that mattered…

…

**Hi there! And welcome to a repost of my Sherlock BBC story! I know I just took this guy down due to lack of inspiration…but leave it to me to find that inspiration immediately after doing so. (sigh) Based on past comments, I think I'm going to try for going back in time after this first chapter, just to set up the 'relationship' between Sherlock and Lily, if you will. But if anyone has any ideas, or things they would like to see between the two please do not hesitate to let me know! I'd be glad to try incorporating your thoughts into the story!**

**That's about all that I have to say for now! I hope you enjoyed the read, and please PLEASE feel free to leave your thoughts in a review!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**MJR**


	2. Chapter 2

_(A few years earlier)_

….

She was in the hospital again. Bruises and scrapes littered her pale skin as marks of so much damage and neglect; the undersides of her arms near her elbows a pincushion, her eyes ringed with dark circles, cold and dead. And for all the world, Lily Hudson _wished_ to be dead, in that moment. Dumped in an alleyway by the men who had destroyed her time and time again, she had prayed; not for the kindly homeless man who found her and brought her here, but for invisibility. She knew she suffered internal injuries from the latest beating. She could feel cracked ribs inhibiting her ability to breathe; and she could taste the blood in her mouth as it dribbled back down her throat from her broken nose.

_She wanted to be left alone, for once in her life_.

Fate, it seemed, had other ideas. At the involvement of the man who found her; the young woman soon found herself whisked from the alleyway and into an ambulance, sirens wailing and causing her insides to squirm as she contemplated the all too likely reality of her situation. She would be saved. Brought back to health until she was fit enough to be cast out into the world that had brought _this _upon her. It was a never-ending cycle. Her parents, or the men who had done this to her would find her again. They always did.

And next time, her punishment would be worse.

While en route to the hospital, Lily had drifted in and out of consciousness; welcoming the enveloping darkness that sporadically surrounded her as a means of escape from the pain that dogged her. She was done, so _done_ with everything that she had been through. But like some twisted joke; she was forced back again and again.

_Her reality had a sense of humor_.

Now she was awake. Awake, and painfully aware of the string of doctors who swarmed in and out of her room; aware of the constant barrage of tests and finger pricks and endless questions. They wanted to know what had happened to her. Who had done this. Where she had come from.

And she was not about to tell. Not after the first time.

When she had gone to authorities before, she had been shot down. Where they had initially been open and welcoming; not judging her or her life, after _he _had gotten to them, all had changed. She had been made into a pariah; the girl who cried wolf when none was there. And she was not going through that again; even if they never found what was wrong with her.

Even if her resistance brought her more harm than good.

Wincing at the appearance of a brilliant orb of light in her field of vision, Lily squinted and shied away; painfully aware of the restraining hand that sought to hold her in place as a warm voice spoke from somewhere above her.

"Hold still, sweetheart" It said; a singular, gentle squeeze at her wrist causing Lily's stomach to churn as pain tore through her nerve endings from the gash just above the man's fingertips "It's alright. I won't hurt you."

Nodding in resignation, Lily pressed herself back into the thinly cushioned hospital bed; steeling herself as though the man before her were about to break all her bones without anesthesia. She knew, on some level, that she was overreacting. That he was a medical professional, not a sadist. But that did not stop her; everything she had survived up to this moment having taught her that no one had pure intentions.

Surely no one would attempt to _help_ her.

Almost as quickly as he had come, the man who had examined her was offering a sad smile before departing; leaving Lily once again in quiet peace. The thought of more scenarios like this one threatened to overwhelm and paralyze her, of course. For she knew that she would continue to be the object of appraisal and fascination; the staff's desire to elucidate all that was not apparent putting her in prime position for observation and supposition. But in spite of all that, the young woman forced herself to focus on her present solitude; eyes closing as she tried to keep her nightmares at bay.

They would come for her eventually, of course. They always did.

…

Excitement, and dread. Perhaps more of it than had assailed her at the news of her ex-husband's execution as the flighty, yet kind-hearted landlady of 221b Baker Street hurried upstairs to inform the new tenants that she had to leave forthwith. True to form, she found Sherlock scurrying about in an attempt to tidy the mess he'd made as his new flat-mate, Dr. John H. Watson looked on in amusement and intrigue; and she barely spared the two men time enough to acknowledge her statement of imminent departure, before she was rushing back towards the stairs.

"Wait a minute, Mrs. Hudson" The one called John beckoned as he limped out to the landing behind her; leaving his eccentric companion to stew about the state of the flat "Did you say you were headed to hospital?"

"Yes, of course" The landlady replied; pausing only a moment to proffer a smile for the kind man she had just met so that he might not mistake her reply as too harsh. After all, he did seem to be the nice sort…

"Are you ill?"

"Oh heavens no, dear, I just have to look after a charge I haven't seen in quite some time."

"Well would you like me to come with you?" John inquired; leaning on the hand rail for support as he shifted slightly on his feet "I _am _a doctor."

"No, I'll be quite alright, thank you. Really, dear, I must be off-"

Without another word, Mrs. Hudson had hurried to descend the stairs; breathless with that same excitement and trepidation that had initially assaulted her as she hailed a cab, and left a very stunned John Watson in her wake.

_They had found her. Lily was alive._

…

Coming out of the fog of sleep slowly, Lily stretched aching muscles, bit by bit; determined to work beyond the dull ache in her body as she slowly shifted in bed. It had been at least a few days since her arrival; and no word from her parents or the men who had done this to her. Such a thing had given her some semblance of strength; even though in her heart, she knew it was impossible that she could persist without her past infringing upon her life for long. Yet again she had fallen prey to hope.

_A dangerous height from which she would surely fall_.

Rearranging her body into its former position lying flat on the bed; Lily made to slip her hand over to the left so that she might reach the television remote, seeking some form of distraction from that faulty emotion that insisted upon plaguing her now. She did not dare trust that she was truly free…to do so would be to set herself up for further failure; a fate she did not know she would survive yet again. She did not dare to believe in such things, even when she saw the familiar figure approaching her as though she was being pursued by some unseen menace.

_It couldn't be real, what she saw. It just couldn't be_.

As the woman paused at the outside of Lily's door, an unmistakable sheen to her eyes; the silence that persisted between them not one of anger or distance, but of unspeakable relief and simultaneous heartache. Lily had not seen the woman before her in at least five years, if not more. But that fact notwithstanding, she permitted her to sit on the edge of her bed without a word; leaning up to meet a warm embrace in spite of the pain in her protesting muscles. Anyone passing by would have marveled at the ease with which the young woman allowed her older counterpart to hold her; when she had refused all contact with any others before. But Lily was not concerned with what passersby would think, in that moment, when her carefully constructed façade of indifference broke and she was left bare, raw, and aching. She did not care that it was weak; that her parents would laugh if they could see her as broken as she was.

For the first time in a very long while, Lily simply released her shattered dreams and wishes and feelings. She curled into Mrs. Hudson's embrace even as the older woman permitted a low sob of her own to break free; and she finally, _finally _sobbed. Not in the arms of one who would shame her later; but in the arms of one who would _help_.

…

**Hello! And welcome to another update! I've been wondering and wondering how to go about this story; because I wanted to go back before the third season so that we might get a better idea of Lily's relationship with everyone (most especially Sherlock) and how everything developed from the beginning. That being said, I figured so long as I kept you up to speed on where we were in the timeline, I could kind of do both? Flashbacks, **_**and **_**events from season 3? So I hope it works!**

**Of course I recognize that this segment is rather short; I figured I'd start out slower, just to gauge everyone's reactions. Is there still interest in reading this? I certainly hope so, because now I think the ideas are coming back full force! But I do have to ask one small favor from you, my lovely readers. Might you be able to leave one wee comment, to say yay or nay to continuing this? I have my ideas, sure, but without your feedback, I'd likely end up working on a story that no one was reading (le sigh, le frown). **

**Many thanks to all of you for reading and giving me a shot (and for bearing with me when updates are less than frequent). I couldn't do it without you!**

**Until next time…**

**MJR**


	3. Chapter 3

_(Two years later)_

Tugging his tiny hand away from his mother's grasp; the youngster bounded up to the door of the flat, dark brown curls bouncing in the breeze as he skidded to a halt before the landing, and turned to face his mother who followed behind him.

"Mama, huwwy!" He chirped; flapping tiny arms in excitement as Lily followed him up the steps, fishing the key from her purse and using her free hand to ruffle her son's curls as she stepped to his side.

"Patience, baby; Mama has to unlock the door" She said; a laugh breaking free as she felt tiny hands tugging at the leg of her jeans "What are you in such a rush about, anyway, little goose?"

"I not a goose, Mama!" The boy argued; crossing his arms across his chest and huffing a bit "Uncle John say I a sold-er!"

"A _soldier_!" Lily gasped; feigning astonishment at her son's words as she finally succeeded in unlocking the door, her arm shooting out to hold it open for the little boy at her side as he darted in and spun around to face her "_I_ thought he said you were a goofy goose!"

The little boy shook his head then, staying close by his mother's side as she stepped into the hall and shut the door behind her; shrugging her coat off and hanging it on the peg on the wall before stooping to pull him closer and start working on his coat. True to form, he squirmed this way and that as she was toying with the buttons; his tiny body trying in vain to escape her other hand as she brought it to his chest to tickle him. It was their routine, by now, after each little outing they went on together…and Lily was unable to stop the bright smile that took over her features as her little angel shrieked and giggled beneath her fingertips; watching in both amusement and exasperation as he barely gave her time enough to slide the jacket from his shoulders before he was tearing off down the hallway and into the kitchen.

_She had promised to make him spaghetti again…_

Tucking Nathan's jacket on the peg underneath her own, Lily toed her shoes off; noting with some amount of chagrin that there were mud tracks on the flooring leading towards the direction her boy had taken. Permitting a sigh to escape, she made to follow her son's trail; tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear as she called out:

"Nathan, love you forgot to take your shoes off…"

Looking back on it all, of course, Lily should have known that her son's silence indicated something was wrong. Always exuberant and talkative, he never failed to have some sort of quirky response to anything he heard…but for her recent statement, there was nothing. A fact that, for some reason, failed to cause her alarm until she turned the corner from the hall into the kitchen and felt her heart stop within her chest.

_This couldn't be happening…_

Instinct drove Lily to hold her hands up in a gesture of surrender then; forcing herself to remain calm as she took a cautious step into the room. The man…whoever he was…had Nathan pulled tight against him with a knife pressed to his throat, the look in her little boy's eyes tearing her to pieces as she swallowed stiffly; trying to keep her voice from breaking as she finally gathered the wherewithal to speak.

"What do you want with us?"

Her only response was a slow smile from the man holding Nathan so tightly; her panic only increasing as she registered heavy footsteps coming towards their location from the direction of her bedroom. Turning on a heel, she managed to spin just in time to see the source of the footsteps coming around the corner into the kitchen to join them; her hand coming to cover her mouth as she gasped.

"Hello, Lily-pad…"

Lily didn't have to see her reflection in a mirror to know that she had paled significantly upon her stepfather's appearance…she could practically _feel_ the color leeching from her skin as he closed the distance between them and tilted her chin up to look directly at him before he spoke again:

"You haven't changed a bit."

Shivering, the young woman tried in vain to tug herself away from the man who had destroyed so much of her childhood; the small whimper coming from Nathan's general direction forcing steel through her veins as she hissed:

"Get your hands _off_ of me."

"Oh Lily…lovely, _lovely_, Lily…" Her stepfather crooned; shaking his head and slipping his hand down to cup around her neck, squeezing just a bit as he forced her backwards "You know you truly don't want that…"

Panic mixing with her determination to protect her young son, Lily reacted on gut instinct then; her hand arcing up to connect with her assailant's face as she simultaneously tugged down on the hand that was partly constricting her airway. The blow had some of the desired impact, of course, forcing her stepfather back a few steps as he growled in anger and abandoned his hold on her throat in favor of covering the small scratch now adorning his cheek…but, like always, he had an advantage over her; the momentary distraction serving only to enrage him further as he stalked towards her, his own, significantly larger hand striking her face and causing her to tumble in a heap to the floor.

Lily did not miss the resounding crack her arm made when she snapped it out to try and break her fall, only to have it twist upon connecting with the kitchen floor; the impact reverberating through her bones and causing a small cry of pain to escape as she froze in place, waiting for the inevitable. Her current situation was not so different from that which she had experienced before, in years long past…and she had to fight with everything she had to avoid simply curling into a ball on the floor as she always had in an effort to protect herself. Had she been alone in her struggles, she would have been tempted to stay still; making herself smaller in an attempt to shield herself from what was to come. But she was _not _alone…she was not the only one that needed to be protected; a fact made abundantly clear by her son's sudden cry piercing her heart as she forced herself to shift and look up at the man hovering over her. He was _grinning_ down at her as she struggled to maintain the weight of her body on the arm that had collided with the floor; and it was all she could do not to break down as she saw him leaning down to yank her up by her wrist.

"You really never learn, do you?" He growled, tugging her to him and ignoring her cry of protest as his hot breath assaulted her ear "Fighting me makes things _so _much harder for you, in the end."

Fighting down the bile that had risen to her throat, Lily settled for glaring at her stepfather as best she could; his cold smile never wavering as he shook his head and spun her around to face her son. The sight of her little angel with that knife still pressed against his throat had tears coming to her eyes in that moment; but she could do nothing for him as yet…not when she knew that any move on her part could send the man holding him over the edge. She couldn't risk anything that might harm her son…her _life_. Her reason for existing…

_It looked like she was going to have to play along…_

"We're going to take you and your son outside now" Her stepfather hissed in her ear then; yanking her injured arm to tug her back against him for a moment before going on "You make a single peep…do _anything _to let someone know you need help…and he dies. Got it?"

_Play along…_

…

_(Three years prior…)_

"_You seem tense."_

"_Pardon?" Lily inquired; trying and failing to prevent the little jump she did at the unexpected statement show as she turned to face Sherlock where he was seated, lounging cross-legged on the couch._

"_You're tense" Sherlock replied; setting the newspaper he had been perusing down on the coffee table before him and fixing Lily with a shrewd gaze before he elaborated "Eyes tight, mouth pursed, shoulders taut…perhaps something to do with your shift at work?"_

"_Right, because you'd care about how work went for me" Lily quipped; her normally sheepish demeanor long since forgotten as she attempted to continue busying herself with cleaning the small flat. Normally, she would never dare to be so waspish with either one of her Aunt's tenants; especially as Dr. Watson had been nothing but kind to her, and Sherlock…well, he was just…Sherlock. A year and a half of interacting with the two men had acquainted her with their own individual eccentricities; enough to render her surprisingly fond of them both. But today, her patience had already been wearing thin due to the proper combination of non-stop rain since last week and impossible customers at the sandwich shoppe…and she did not have the time, nor desire to hear of still more witty deductions regarding her person from the man ensconced upon the couch. Always he enjoyed peppering her with minute statements and suppositions; setting her nerves on edge even as he intrigued her with his innate ability to read her like an open book. But today was not a day that she would tolerate being treated like one of his cases…_

"_I would if it impacted the aura of the flat" The detective retorted; breaking her rather abruptly from her sour thoughts as he stood and moved to reside slightly to her left "Moods do that, I'm told."_

"_Well, I'm so sorry I've impacted your morning."_

_Lily made to turn away from him then, content to take her cleaning elsewhere; but it seemed as though the enigma of a man beside her was intent upon keeping her there, his hand snapping out to latch onto her wrist at the last second as he spoke rapidly._

"_Tomorrow is the anniversary of your leaving home. Each year you think it will get better, that the memories will subside; but they do not. This year is no exception; and the weather conditions only further imprint a sour memory in your mind, no matter how you may wish to suppress it. All of this is made apparent by your defensiveness and…tense muscles."_

_Stunned into silence, Lily could only stare at him as he surveyed her reaction with a detached interest; instinct driving her to attempt tugging away from him as his words hit home. She had tried her very hardest to ignore the markings on the calendar…to forget the signs that meant another year had gone by and she had survived, yet again. But, truth be told, she had to admit Sherlock was right in his assumption…that it was entirely likely that her sour mood was more in line with his explanation than her own. A fact that embarrassed her more than helped her as she felt his grip on her wrist tighten while he spoke._

"_You need a distraction."_

"_I'm sorry?" _

"_You need a distraction" Sherlock repeated; his expression giving evidence to his thought that she should very well have heard him the first time as he elaborated "And I have an idea that, if I am to be honest, has been plaguing me for quite some time."_

_A brief moment passed in silence between the two of them, then; the hand that Sherlock had latched onto Lily's wrist moving up, ever so slowly, to touch her cheek with the faintest hint of gentleness, his head tilting to the side in silent intrigue as he stepped closer to her._

"_I want to try something…"_

_The detective gave Lily no time to reply, before his lips were brushing against hers; her entire body stiffening in shock as she tried to rationalize what was happening. Sherlock Holmes…the Sherlock Holmes was kissing her. Her! It didn't make any sense. He couldn't possibly care for her…could he? _

_It was impossible…_

_Just as soon as the kiss had begun, however, Sherlock was pulling away; his breathing a bit out of sync as he looked her over, gauging her reaction. Lily could almost see the gears in his mind turning, deducing, trying to figure out whatever had transpired between them. It was uncomfortable, she decided, waiting for him to say something…anything…but he was soon solving that problem for her; never once stepping away from her as he said:_

"_Interesting…"_

"_Sherlock…"_

_Before she could break from her daze long enough to chastise him for his assessment, though, his lips were pressing against hers, more insistently this time; long fingers coming up to wind in her hair as she found her back pressed gently into the wall behind her. Of course she could not deny that a part of her had wanted this. Ever since meeting him, Lily had been intrigued by the detective in the flat just above the one she shared with her aunt; his brilliance and physical appearance serving as ample fuel to kindle a small admiration for him in her heart. But she knew, even when first looking at him, that he was not one for relationships. Not like his flat-mate…not like John Watson, a man who cared for everyone he considered close to his heart._

_So what on earth was she doing?_

_Lily felt Sherlock's hand slip down to cup her neck, then, while the other remained tangled in her hair; and although self-preservation all but demanded that she push him away…that she put a stop to this, she found that she faced an overwhelming desire to do the exact opposite. She knew that it was entirely likely that nothing meaningful could ever come from this. Sherlock Holmes did not believe in affection…he had made that abundantly clear. But in spite of that knowledge, Lily was unable to deny the strange surge of pleasure coursing through her as the detective's lips moved against her own; a faint whimper tearing from her throat as she finally wound an arm about his neck to pull him closer…signifying her surrender. Signifying, in part, her innate desire to be cherished, at least for a moment._

_A moment that marked the beginning of the end…_

…..

(_Present day_)

Jolted back to the present by a loud scraping coming from somewhere above her head; Lily cracked an eye open, groaning a bit as pain exploded through her arm and up into her shoulder. Not long after they had left the flat, her stepfather had seen fit to incapacitate her with a blow to the head; and in an effort to force herself beyond the dull ache in her temples that was rising in concert with the pain in her arm, she forced herself to sit upright, her heart constricting in her chest as she heard a soft cry.

"Mama!"

Tiny footsteps scuffled towards her in the dark, her breath leaving her in a rush as she felt the impact of Nathan hurling himself in her lap with his arms around her neck.

"Mama, I scared."

Fighting back a whimper at how his sudden vault into her lap had jarred her arm; Lily squeezed her little boy tight to her chest, pressing a fervent kiss into his temple as she whispered "Thank God you're alright…"

"It's too dark" Nathan cried, squirming around in her lap until his head was pillowed against her chest; one tiny fist curled into her shirt "Why the bad men bwing us hewe?"

Sighing, Lily kissed Nathan's hair, cradling him as close as she could while ignoring the pain throbbing through her arm and head; her eyes gradually adjusting to the frank darkness around them as she replied:

"I'm not sure, baby. I'm just not sure."

"Is Uncle John com-ig fow us?" Nathan asked; leaning back just enough to look up at his mother as she bit her lower lip and gave him a small squeeze.

"I…I hope so, baby. I _really_ hope so."

Pulling her son close once again, Lily rested her cheek on top of his brown curls; leaning her back against the cool cement of the wall behind her and scanning the room for something…anything that might hint at where they were. From what little she _could _see, it appeared that they were in a cellar of some sort; the damp coolness of the air, combined with the sound of water drops falling somewhere to her right correlating that supposition with chilling clarity. But beyond that, she was unable to come up with anything remotely useful in that moment; settling instead for shutting her eyes and rubbing aimless little patterns against Nathan's back as she prayed. Prayed for someone to find them. Prayed that Nathan, at least, could get out of this alive. She had no way of knowing what her stepfather and his accomplice had planned, for either of them. She didn't know why he had taken Nathan, when it was evident, at least for now, that he was only interested in her. What she _did_ know, however, was that she would do everything in her power to keep her son safe. He was her angel…her joy, her _everything_. Her reason for fighting after Sherlock had been taken from her. She would not let him die.

_She would find the strength to fight her stepfather to the very end to stop that from happening…_

…

**Hello again! Here it is; another chapter! I've decided to jump right into the meat and potatoes of season three, with some minor little changes…but as you see from the italics, I did put a flashback in as well! I'll probably continue on in that pattern, going along in present day with minor backslides to get a glimpse of what went on prior to this point. (if that makes any sense lol). Hopefully that works for everyone?**

**Needless to say, I wanted to take a moment to thank those of you who have followed and favorited and reviewed thus far! I can't wait to hear what you think of this installment!**

**Until next time…**

**MJR**


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